Mel and Skye unleashed
by wiccabookworm
Summary: Two unlikely Australians become the things they most hate: Mary Sues. Oh the irony. I'm partnering with aussiesheila47 on this one although we have now abandoned this story due to no reviews.
1. Prologue

**A.N: Bear with us this is the opening chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Sadly, we don't own Harry Potter, unless you count merchandise. We do however own Mel, Skye We wish we did own Harry Potter but that's what fanfiction is for. **

Prologue: Parallel Universes 

"I can't believe it's been over a year since Goblet Of Fire came out in the cinemas," Melinda Bowtell sighed. "And to think, we've only got a few more days on our Goblet Of Fire 2006 calendars left."

"Ah well," Skye Sheridan shrugged. "I have one with kittens on it to hang in my locker next year. It's all good. And then we can get 2008 Order Of The Phoenix calendars."

Mel sighed. "Poor Vic. She will carry out that water-gun threat of hers if we're not careful."

"We should definitely have saved up for tickets to Nickelback while they were here," Skye said wistfully. "Then we could relive the concert while she was in hearing distance."

"We could always debate over whether Alex Rider will ever get it on with Sabina Pleasure," Mel pointed out.

Skye shuddered. "Don't go there. That's like Harry/Hermione. Totally wrong."

"Yes, Miss HMS Celebrity," Mel muttered.

Skye acted as though she had not heard her friend. "Besides, she went to live in America, remember? You know, if we went to a public school, we'd be so excited to finally be on holidays, but we've already been on holidays for two weeks. I guess that's why there was such a crowd at the cinemas."

The room suddenly went dark.

"Oh, great, a power failure," Mel complained.

"Are you sure?" Skye queried. "If it was a power failure, we could see the outline of the furniture. Ouch!"

It was as though the two girls had been sucked into a vacuum. Eventually, the squashed feeling went away and they found themselves in a small stone room lit with torches.

"Where are we?" Mel asked.

"Dunno, but we'd better get out before my claustrophobia sets in and I faint," Skye replied worriedly. They exited by the large wooden door, and found themselves in a corridor outside a tapestry of trolls in tutus in which stood three people who looked extraordinarily like the Golden Trio. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we somehow managed to make our way onto the set of the fifth movie."

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat silent and unmoving on the sofa in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. Their trunks were packed and waiting in the Entrance Hall, but not one of them had the heart to leave the room right then. At least, not until Hermione, after thinking extensively about Dumbledore, had a brain wave. "Ron, what did you tell me about what Dumbledore said in second year, in Hagrid's cabin? 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it'?"

Harry and Ron nodded.

Hermione stood up. "Come on. We're going to ask for help." She walked briskly to the portrait hole and realised that Harry and Ron had not followed her. "Are you coming, or not?" That got them moving.

However, Hermione did not lead the boys out of the castle. Instead, she led them to a certain seventh-floor corridor. She indicated a patch of wall. "Harry, ask for help."

He looked at her blankly.

Hermione almost stamped her foot in frustration. "Oh, come on, Harry. This Horcrux thing is so much bigger than you are. It's bigger than the three of us together. Voldemort – oh, grow up, Ron – would put much Darker protection around his Horcruxes than the teachers put on the Philosopher's Stone. You have to ask for help. I mean, it's not as though Dumbledore can give you much more, can he?"

She had struck a nerve. Harry started walking past the wall. _I need help. I need help. I need – _

A large wooden door suddenly appeared in the wall and creaked open. Two teenage girls stumbled out and looked around. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we somehow managed to make our way onto the set of the fifth movie," said the shorter of the two, the one not wearing glasses.

"Yeah, well, I can't see any cameras." The other one caught sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Um, Skye? Was there something dodgy in the popcorn?"

Skye gaped at the canon characters. "Holy Fudge Flies," she breathed.

Harry turned to Hermione. "This is the help I get? Two Australians?"

Skye and her friend crossed their arms. "You have a problem with our nationality, Mr Radcliffe?" Skye demanded.

"Radcliffe?" Ron repeated.

Harry shook his head. "This would have to be the first time I've been mistaken for someone else," he remarked.

Skye's jaw dropped. "This is _not_ happening. Mel, how could we get into the Potterverse?"

"More importantly, what are we doing in 90's clothes?" Mel muttered, holding out the sides of her oversized pullover. "I haven't a clue. Can we just hold a conferencing session?"

"That's my phrase, get your own," Skye hissed.

"Potterverse?" Hermione repeated.

"Is everything about me?" Harry demanded.

"The books _are_ called 'Harry Potter'," Mel said patronisingly.

"Not 'Draco Malfoy'," Skye added.

"And the films have the same titles as the books," Mel went on.

"There are films about me?" Harry asked, horrified. This was not the sort of help he had meant, if it was help at all.

"Why do you think we were talking about sets?" Skye muttered. "Australia makes movies, too, you know. We just haven't made many good ones for a while." Mel glanced at the ceiling.

"Look, I asked for help," Harry began.

"Did you really?" Mel said, taken aback. "That's not like you at all. I thought you preferred to do things by yourself."

"How do you know Harry so well?" Ron asked.

"Well," Skye said, with the air of beginning to tell a long story, "We've read the books, seen the films, and read quite a bit of fanfiction. Not to mention the reviews of the films and fanfictions."

"What do the reviews of the films have to do with characters staying _in_ character?" Mel demanded.

"Not much," Skye conceded. "But we still read them. Now, you asked for help; this is the Potterverse and that's the Room Of Requirement, I take it?"

Hermione nodded.

"So we're your help," Mel mused. "Well, that's good. We can stop you from stuffing up your life too much more."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't stuff up my life. Dark powers do that for me."

"Mel meant your personal life," Skye pointed out. "Which you have managed to stuff up astonishingly, by the way. The Idiot Affectionately Known As Voldie can wait."

"The who?" Ron demanded.

"No, that's a band," Mel deadpanned. "Skye meant Voldemort."

"Voldie?" Harry repeated in disbelief. "You call him Voldie?"

Skye nodded eagerly. "The Wonderfully Ingenious Yet Disturbingly Evil Jo Rowling said on her site that she doesn't mind people calling him 'Voldie' so we get away with it."

"The –"

"Wonderfully Ingenious Yet Disturbingly Evil Jo Rowling," Mel finished. "The author of the canon Harry Potter series. I don't know how many people have taken it upon themselves to re-write it."

"You mean AU fics?" Skye asked. "Alternate Universe," she added in response to the canon characters' questioning looks.

"Oh, great," Mel said suddenly, snapping her fingers. "I just realised. Skye, we're Mary Sues." She said it with the air of a jailed person announcing to their family they had a life sentence.

"Oh, brilliant," Skye said sarcastically. "I hate Mary Sues!"

Suddenly Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified, interrupted them. "All students leaving on the Hogwarts Express to the front lawn, please. All students leaving on the Hogwarts Express to the front lawn."

"We'd better get going," Hermione stated, and all five hurried to the front lawn. Introductions were made as they went.

Mel and Skye found themselves on the Hogwarts Express. "It's like something out of a Poirot movie," Skye mused. Neville, Luna and Ginny had joined the Golden Trio and the two Mary Sues in the compartment, so it was slightly squashed. As Ernie Macmillan made his way by with Terry Boot, he could be heard to say, "And yet there's a compartment for every student."

"Your British scenery is so much greener," Mel remarked. "If we were on the Ghan, we'd have a lovely view of the desert. Maybe a few kangaroos, if we were lucky."

"Too right," Skye muttered. "And _I'm_ the one who's been to Alice Springs and Uluru." She sighed.

"Now, Harry, what are we going to do about you?" Mel asked exasperatedly, as Ginny caught his eye and then they both looked away.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Ginny produced a pack of Exploding Snap cards and she, Hermione and Luna started a game.

"Well, that went well," Skye muttered. "About what happened after Dumbledore's funeral, Harry –"

Boom. Ginny's hand got singed.

The blood drained from Harry's face, leaving the lightning-bolt scar and his eyes particularly noticeable. "That was in the book?"

"Of course," Mel replied matter-of-factly. "Not happy, Jan. Not happy at all."

"Then again, we've had eighteen months to reflect on the stupidity of it," Skye pointed out.

"You think the funeral was stupid? Why?" Hermione enquired testily.

"Oh, no, not the funeral," Mel said quickly. "That was just sad. Poor Dumbledore … no, we're talking about something that Harry did after the funeral."

"Why is it stupid?" Harry demanded. Ginny stormed out.

"You mean, apart from that?" Skye commented, eyebrows raised.

"Look, I know it's not … desirable, but it's necessary," Harry defended himself.

Mel's eyebrows shot up so high they were in danger of disappearing into her hair. "You think?"

"Of course he doesn't," Skye said heatedly. "He's Harry Potter. When has he ever thought?"

"Oi!" Harry said, stung.

"Don't worry," Mel assured him. "That was just Skye's blue-bottle imitation."

"A blue-bottle would hurt more," Skye pointed out. "And leave visible scarring."

"What happened to dittany?" Mel quipped.

"You can get that in Australia?" Skye questioned.

"Why is Ginny angry with you, mate?" Ron cut in.

"You won't be calling him 'mate' in a minute," Mel muttered.

"I, er," Harry stalled.

"He dumped her," Skye supplied.

"I didn't _dump_ her!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, you certainly didn't let her off lightly," Mel countered. "You said it three different ways, Harry. Surely that constitutes as dumping? The only good thing about it was that you didn't say, 'It's not you, it's me.'"

Silence reined supreme for a full two minutes after Mel and Skye's bombshell dropped. Then Ron stood up, gripped Harry's arm and dragged him out of the compartment.

"I won't say 'I told you so,'" Mel said succinctly.

"Stop quoting Hermione," Skye muttered.

**A.N:** **'Not happy, Jan' is a line from an old ad for the Yellow Pages in Australia. Oh no, we've succumbed to the dreaded must-insert-selves-into-fic disease, and added two Mary Sues. Ah well, we hope it's original enough – Australia is, after all, a unique land, and we don't just mean the wildlife – for you to review … hint, hint**


	2. Chapter 1

**A.N: Thought we'd upload this chappie at the same time, as it's finished.**

**Disclaimer: Not ours! Don't sue us!**

"I'm afraid we can't see why it's so stupid," Hermione said placatingly to Ginny, Mel and Skye. "This way, you're safe."

"Sure she is," Mel muttered. The three girls were sitting on the floor of Ginny's room at the Burrow. Ron and Harry had gone to 4 Privet Drive. (Vernon Dursley had flat-out refused to take Hermione back to Little Whinging. Apparently the last time he had encountered a witch – Harry's mother – he had come off decidedly the worse for wear).

"Arwen ended up fighting," Skye said dismissively, "and it was her father, Elrond, that sent her away."

"Lord of the Rings again?" Mel said tiredly. "Surely not everything is a parallel, Skye?"

"You'd be surprised," Skye replied darkly. "Or at least, you would if you'd just watch them."

"They've made the Lord of the Rings into a film?" Hermione asked, startled. "I didn't think they had the special effects needed."

"Oh, we've had a great advent in digital technology," Mel replied. "They made the trilogy, but I'm not sure about The Hobbit."

"Normally, I'd advise reading the book before watching the film, but in the case of James Bond and LotR, the films do just fine," Skye added. "The LotR books are all 'And thus it was that Frodo of the Shire left Bree in the dead of the night,' you know, very Ye Olde Worlde English. The Harry Potter books are much easier to read. I guess that's why they're the ones on the Angus and Robertson kids' best seller-list. Only The Hobbit is on that, not the LotR trilogy."

"I'm going to pretend I know what you're talking about," Ginny muttered.

Meanwhile, in Privet Drive…

Harry and Ron had dragged an air-mattress that Harry hadn't realised the Dursleys owned from the attic and blew it up. They promptly had a fight over who would sleep on it. Harry's argument was that Ron was a guest and so should have the bed. Ron's argument was that Harry should have some form of comparable decadence at the Dursleys, only he didn't say it quite so eloquently. A quick round of parchment-quill-inkbottle decreed that Ron take the air mattress.

After the air mattress was made up, Harry and Ron left the house, and the street, as Ron was curious to see Harry's haunts. Harry pointed out where he had first seen Dobby, where he had first seen Sirius, and where the Dementor attack had taken place. Nosy neighbours were most surprised to see 'that Potter boy' with someone, someone, moreover, who was not of the area, and one girl Harry unfortunately remembered from primary school actually came out of her yard and tried to chat Ron up. Luckily it was nearing dinner-time and they had to leave.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the hall as an all-too-familiar voice floated out from the dining-room. "Oh no. Not her, not now."

"Her who?" Ron, ever clueless, had no idea what was going on, and not just because he was a wizard in a Muggle house.

"Aunt Marge is here," Harry whispered in horror.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered back, and they entered the dining room, bracing themselves for the worst. Aunt Marge, for her part, ignored both Harry and Ron all through the meal, during which Dudley proved that he still ate too much, as he ate even more than Ron, who had a better metabolism.

Harry tried to excuse Ron and himself after the meal, but Aunt Marge, as she had done four years previously, overruled Uncle Vernon and commanded them to stay. Harry and Ron shared uneasy glances but obeyed.

Dudley munched on muesli bars as the 'family' watched three BBC programmes and as the opening bars of the music heralding 'The News At Ten' began, Harry and Ron edged out of the room. Aunt Marge had interrogated both of them on St Brutus' (Harry now understood why Aunt Petunia had been so keen to impress intimate details of their 'lives' there upon them in the car back from the station, and why Ron couldn't have taken the guest room – not that he would have wanted Aunt Marge in his room anyway) all through the second programme, so they were pretty keen to leave before either or both of them cracked. It was very hard to keep the Statue of Secrecy, especially to Aunt Marge, who was as persistent as she was rude, fat and obnoxious.

As they started a quiet game of chess (Harry didn't know why he'd bothered) Ron said, "So, run it by me again. You care about my sister so much that you're willing to sacrifice your happiness, and hers, to keep her safe."

"That sounds about right, yeah," Harry agreed. "Knight to E4."

Ron glanced back down at the board. "Queen to E4." Harry winced as his knight was battered severely then limped off the board in defeat. "You're very noble, you know. I don't think I could do the same thing."

"I wouldn't ask you to. She's your sister."

"That's not what I meant. So, basically, you're being cruel to be kind?"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Harry agreed.

"So why do Ginny and the two new girls reckon you're being stupid?" Ron mused.

Harry frowned. "Ginny seemed to take it quite well at the funeral. I admit, I probably didn't have the greatest timing, but it's the right thing to do. Right?"

"Well, Hermione seems to think so," Ron said thoughtfully, "and I'm more inclined to trust Hermione's judgement than the new girls. I mean, okay, it's not great that you're hurting her –"

"You think I want to?" Harry cut in.

"But I'm sure she'd rather be alive so that when this is over you can get back together. After all, the only alternative is that she's dead when this is all over, which would mean that you wouldn't be able to get back together. I'm sure that's not what either of you want."

"Of course it isn't. Well, there's always the off-chance that she'd survive the war even if we were still together, but it's a very slim chance."

"Look, can you just trust us?" Skye pleaded.

"Ginny's just feeling used, and therefore rather crummy," Mel continued. "As she would; it's been, what, eight hours since it happened; that must be sufficient time for the reality of the situation to sink in."

"But we've had eighteen months to go over every microscopic detail," Skye went on. "I wouldn't call it 'reality' for us, after all it's just a book, but we've definitely seen enough to decide that it's a stupid idea for him to break up with Ginny."

"They're meant to be, a fact which both of us have now accepted," Mel stated. "We used to sail on some very un-canon ships."

"Speak for yourself," Skye muttered. "Hermione, would you rather die happy, in a romantic relationship with Ron, or die unhappy, not in a relationship with Ron?"

Hermione gaped. "How did you – I mean, what do you - ?"

Mel and Skye raised their eyebrows at Ginny, who pulled a face.

"And how you think Harry would feel if he attended Ginny's funeral, which still occurred in spite of his best efforts to protect her?" Mel persisted.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Ginny demanded.

"Well, we tried to, on the train, but Ron insisted on releasing his anger towards the fact that Harry hurt his baby sister, first," Skye said apologetically.

Breakfast at the Dursleys' was nothing short of chaotic. Aunt Marge in her tenacity eventually wore Ron down in her constant insults to Harry, who privately thought that perhaps Ron might have made a good Hufflepuff.

"Will you just stop, please, ma'am?" Ron hissed after a particularly nasty insult directed at Harry's mental capacity. "I've kind of figured that you don't like Harry, and I know it's mutual, but he's got more on his plate than you could ever realise, and he really doesn't need to deal with this right now."

Harry looked at his friend in surprise. Ron was usually only this vocal when someone insulted Hermione. And his ears were turning crimson, too, a sign that he was about to blow.

"Can't even fight your own battles?" Dudley sneered, to cover the silence as Miss Majorie Dursley sat resembling a goldfish as she opened and shut her mouth. Nobody but Harry and Ron appreciated the irony of that statement.

That was the final straw. Harry grabbed Ron's arm to stop him from doing something stupid, and they stormed out of the house.

"I had no idea," Ron panted as they reached Magnolia Crescent. "No wonder you blew her up!"

"I can't go back there," Harry said once he'd caught his breath.

"We could wait till they're out of the house – didn't they say something about your Mr and Miss Dursley taking Dudley to the cimenas?

"The cinemas," Harry corrected him automatically. "Yeah, that'd work. Aunt Petunia by herself isn't as bad as when she is with her family."

"But you're her family," Ron said, confused.

"Only by blood," Harry said darkly.

Thus it was that Harry and Ron wandered the streets of Little Whinging talking about the Chudley Cannons till they saw that Uncle Vernon's car wasn't in the driveway of 4 Privet Drive, at which time they re-entered the hell-house and packed up.

"The protective magic should have renewed itself by now," Harry stated. "Come on."

"And just where do you two think you're going?" Aunt Petunia demanded, coming out of the kitchen in bright pink rubber gloves and brandishing a dishcloth.

"Mrs Figg's," Harry answered.

Aunt Petunia raised an eyebrow. "And why would you go there?"

"Because she's a Squib," Harry replied, "and she knew and liked Dumbledore, and I can trust her, and the atmosphere will be more welcoming than stifling, like it is here. And did I mention that contact with wizards would probably be easier in the home of a Squib?"

"Arabella Figg is a Squib," Aunt Petunia repeated. It appeared that that was all that had sunk in from Harry's little speech.

"You don't mean to tell me that you know what a Squib is, too?" Harry said in disbelief, but he didn't wait for an answer, as he turned back to the door, through which he and Ron hurried and dragged their trunks to Mrs Figg's.

"Here's hoping that she does actually have a Floo connection," Harry remarked as he pressed the doorbell.

A pleasant surprise was waiting for them in Mrs Figg's living room. Remus Lupin and Andromeda Tonks were obviously just finishing morning tea.

"Harry! Ron!" Tonks exclaimed, and hurried over to hug both of them. "Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?"

"We couldn't stand being at the Dursleys'," Ron explained as he and Harry set their trunks down.

"I can understand that," Remus said. "We were just going to call in and collect you anyway." He waved his wand and the teapot, cups, saucers and plate now devoid of biscuits zoomed back to the kitchen. Mrs Figg smiled at him. Harry appreciated anew just how convenient magic could be. Tonks withdrew a small pouch from the folds of her robes which she opened to reveal the Floo Powder inside. "Harry, Ron, if you would just … "

Harry still didn't enjoy travel by Floo Powder, but you had to give it its props for at least being more comfortable than Apparition/Apparation (depending on whether you go by the GoF/HBP spelling or the OotP spelling). And the area he Flooed into – the Weasleys' kitchen – had a considerably more ambient vibe than the one he had just left. It felt good to be in a supportive environment at last.

**A.N: Hope you liked it. Now click on the pretty purple button to review. You know you want to.**


End file.
